“Hmm.”
Ione let out a quiet sigh as she stared into the empty teacup.
Helena, who had followed her in, seemed to notice and made a flustered sound from behind.
“Your Grace, I’ll hurry and—”
“No.”
“But there’s still warmth in the cup. It seems he left only a short while ago. I’ll go and bring His Grace back right away.”
Ione firmly cut Helena off again.
“No, that’s not necessary.”
“Your Grace…”
“I’ll go myself.”
What meaning is there in sending a lady-in-waiting?
He had waited for her. She was the one who was late.
So this time, she had to go to him.
Ione lightly lifted the hem of her dress.
She was ready—not to run, but to speed-walk.
“Where is the Duke now?”
“He should be in his office.”
“Good. Then I’ll head to his office. Open the door.”
Perhaps realizing that no persuasion would work, Helena quickly opened the door to the drawing room.
The moment it swung wide, Ione gathered her skirts and strode out with purpose.
“Your Grace, please slow down! You just got out of bed today. Don’t overdo it!”
Helena’s worried voice followed as she rushed to keep up, but Ione only walked faster.
"It’s just a cold. They’re acting like I’m on my deathbed."
"What kind of karma is this, seriously."
"I said I’m fine."
She couldn’t help but wonder—had Benson sent her to see the Duke because he couldn’t get through to her himself?
If that was the case, then she had even more reason to see Adrian.
To show him she was perfectly fine.
Driven by a sudden burst of determination, Ione walked briskly until she finally caught sight of Adrian’s office.
“Your Grace, allow me to announce your visit—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Ione nodded toward the man exiting the office.
There he was—Adrian.
Even from a distance, he looked impeccable. And up close?
Truly unfair.
Whether wearing a sharply tailored coat or full armor like now, he always looked the part.
Earlier, he’d been the image of an intellectual noble. Now...
“Armor?”
It took Ione a second to register the fact that Adrian was fully dressed for battle. She rushed up to him.
“Armor? Are you heading out?”
“Yes.”
His curt reply made Ione’s expression subtly stiffen.
Was that really how he was going to answer?
What kind of conversation style is that?
She felt a bit embarrassed at how flatly he shut her down, but bit her tongue.
Don’t pry.
Wasn’t he the one who just recently said,
"
You always seem to seek me out, Your Grace,"
with that cold expression?
She had no intention of repeating that mistake and being misunderstood again.
Honestly, it hadn’t even been a deeply curious question.
Just when she was trying to soothe her own awkwardness, Adrian spoke again.
“There was a report of a monster sighting. I’m going to confirm it.”
Can he read minds or something?
Ione, who had just been inwardly grumbling, now felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over her.
She was biting her lip in silence when a sharp voice cut in.
“I told you not to be so vague, Your Grace. People get the wrong idea, remember?”
Only then did Ione notice the slender man standing behind Adrian.
“Ah…”
“Greetings, Your Grace. I serve the Duke— Ow!”
“My aide.”
“His overworked aide! And don’t pause so weirdly between words! It leads to misunderstandings!”
So he noticed all the sarcasm in his tone, huh.
Ione quickly waved her hands in denial.
“N-No, I didn’t misunderstand at all.”
“No need to cover for him, Your Grace. His way of speaking is easily misinterpreted. It’s a frustratingly rude manner of speech.”
The aide said this with a completely serious face.
“He’s naturally blunt and reserved, but his communication is the real issue. Just now—when you asked where he was going and he said 'yes'—what are people supposed to think if he doesn't elaborate?”
He seemed unafraid to openly criticize his superior.
Ione blinked slowly at him.
Clear brown eyes, upright posture, precise speech—a slender man with an earnest aura.
Ah… now I remember.
He really is a good person.
“What?”
“You seem like a good person.”
It sounded like criticism of the Duke, but it wasn’t.
He had been trying to protect his master.
He was speaking up on Adrian’s behalf, so Ione wouldn’t get the wrong impression.
So she wouldn’t grow upset—by acting more upset himself.
There’s always a capable aide beside the main character.
But this man… was more than that.
“G-Good person?”
Ione, with a composed tone, introduced herself to the now-blushing aide.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ione Preses.”
“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. I’m Orgen Hatzler.”
“Nice to meet you, Sir Orgen.”
Ione extended her hand, allowing him to offer a formal kiss.
Orgen hesitated for a moment, then gently took her fingertips and brought them to his forehead.
“You didn’t want me to misunderstand the Duke, right?”
Orgen flushed even deeper at her words—his embarrassment clear now that his intentions had been seen through.
But Ione found that endearing.
Orgen Hatzler
.
A righteous man, unshaken by external noise.
At first glance, he appeared thin and sharp, almost high-strung—but in truth, he was patient and clever.
Just now, instead of explaining or defending his master directly, he’d chosen to scold him.
By doing so, he made sure no one else would dare say anything worse about the Duke—and slipped in just enough explanation to help Ione understand.
It may have seemed aggressive, but it was actually quite smart.
He’d soothed her frustration while also shedding light on Adrian’s behavior.
But that wasn’t why she called him a good person.
In the original story, he was the only one who ever defended the chaotic, reckless Ione.
"Even if you wanted the Duke’s attention, Your Grace, this isn’t the way! If you keep doing this, he’ll just see you as a nuisance!"
"How can anyone know you’re sorry if you just stand around watching? Apologize sincerely."
They may have sounded like scoldings, but they were laced with rare empathy—words that truly tried to understand her.
Orgen really was a good person.
Ione smiled brightly at him.
“I guess now you also know—I’m not someone who jumps to conclusions easily.”
“...Was I being presumptuous?”
Of course not.
“You handled that wonderfully. Thank you—and I look forward to working with you.”
Really, I do
.
You helped Ione survive, even if just a little.
I have no intention of causing chaos.
So if I do ever seem like a nuisance—please, help me again.
There was no one else to trust. The world was hellbent on pushing Ione out.
And now, she’d finally met the one person who’d tried to understand her.
“A-Ah, yes, Your Grace. I’ll do my best to assist you.”
Orgen looked a bit dazed at the unexpected string of compliments, but Ione just hoped he would like her.
“You’re being overly formal.”
“What?”
The one who saved the flustered aide was none other than Adrian, who had been silently watching the whole exchange.
“Are you done?”
“I didn’t mean to hold you up. I just wanted to say hello since we ran into each other.”
“If you’re well enough to greet my aide, then I’ll be off.”
Adrian’s usual cool expression remained unchanged, but… was it her imagination?
It seemed a little colder than usual.
“Then I’ll see you later. Please take care, Your Grace.”
Orgen quickly bowed and hurried after Adrian, who had already walked away.
That was so like him, just vanishing like that after saying his piece.
“You can’t just leave like that!”
Benson, who hadn’t had a chance to speak, stomped his foot in frustration—but Adrian was long gone.
“He seemed busy. Don’t bother the Duke. He mentioned a monster.”
“But, Your Grace, this is really important—”
“What important thing?”
“Well…”
Something clicked in Ione’s mind, and she cut him off.
“Wait—were you going to talk to him about me?”
Benson gave a sheepish but firm nod.
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s correct.”
And with that, a chill ran down Ione’s spine.
The Duke of the North, donning full armor and heading out to investigate a monster sighting…
And you were about to delay him because of the former duchess’s cold?
Who even comes up with this kind of thing?
“What does that make me?”
A villainess? A brat?
Or worse—a desperate woman so starved for the Duke’s attention that she’s gone mad?